NOVEMBER 3

God, almost every night I get into bed and pray that I will never open my eyes again. Mornings, especially sunny mornings, only sadden me now. I know why I suffer so much. I have brought all of this upon myself. It is no one else's fault. I am a different person now. Before, I looked at everything around me in a romantic and happy way. Not anymore. I feel that my soul is badly hurt and cannot be repaired. Nothing helps me to feel better now. Not even nature can bring a smile to my lips. I look at the countryside around me and feel nothing but emptiness inside. I cannot even cry any longer. I have found myself praying to God for tears, just like the farmer might pray for rain. God, however, does not give these things in order to please one sad person. Why can't I appreciate the things that He has already given me? Why must I only think of the things I have lost?

NOVEMBER 8

Wilhelm, Charlotte gently criticized me recently for my behavior, I have started to drink more than usual. "Stop this!'she said to me, "Do it for me." Oh, I would do anything for her. If she only knew what I would do for her! I said, "Thoughts of you never leave my mind. Why, just the other day I ... "She interrupted me and began talking about something else, in order to prevent me from saying too much. I am completely in her hands. She can do with me whatever she wishes.

NOVEMBER 15

Again, Wilhelm, I appreciate your concern and suggestions for helping myself, but I must ask you to just let me suffer. I suffer greatly, but I can still manage to go on with my life. I am not at death's door. Religion is useful for people who suffer much, especially the dying. I feel, however, that God has forgotten about me. He does not hear my prayers to him. Life is nothing but movement from one sad thing to another. It was this way for Jesus, the son of God. Why should I pretend that it is any different for myself?

NOVEMBER 21

I do not think she is aware of the dangerous drink she is making for the two of us. It will certainly kill us both. I happily accept the drink, because I cannot help myself. Why does she always give me such gentle looks? Alright, maybe she does not always do this, but occasionally. Sometimes, she seems to enjoy the moments when I pour my heart out to her and tell her how I feel. Sometimes, she seems to pity me.

Just the day before, she took hold of my hand as I was turning to go, and said, "Goodbye, sweet Werther." What did she mean by that? Never had she talked to me in such a way! Her voice keeps repeating those words in my brain again and again. I even said it aloud to myself before going to sleep last night.

NOVEMBER 24

She is aware of my sadness. In the morning, I visited her and she greeted me with only a look of silent pity. This moved me very much. If I had had the courage, I would have kissed her. In order to break the uncomfortable moment, she went to her piano and played a beautiful song. She sang too. As I listened to her voice combine with the sound of the piano, my eyes saw nothing but those beautiful lips of hers, releasing the most beautiful sounds in the world. If I could kiss those lips just once, I could die happily.

NOVEMBER 30

I am changed forever! Today, I met a man while walking along the riverbank. His clothing was in terrible condition. When I came closer to him, I saw a look of calm sadness on his face. I asked him what he was looking for, because his eyes seemed always to be searching the ground for something.

"I'm trying to find some flowers," he answered.

"But there are no flowers at this time of year," I said.

"Oh no, no, no. There are plenty in my garden now, and very beautiful ones, too. I don't see any out here though."

It was clear that something was very wrong with him. From curiosity I asked him why he was looking for flowers.

"I'm going to give them to my lover," he whispered. "She is very beautiful and wealthy. I only wish I could give her more, but the King still hasn't paid me. Oh, how happy I used to be! If only I could feel that way again!

Just then, an elderly lady some distance away began shouting for the man to come back home. I went to her and asked if she was the man's mother.

"Yes, the poor dear. He's quite ill, but at least he is not violent now. He had to spend nearly a year in the mental hospital. Now he's calm, though, so he lives with us. He used to be such a talented young man. But one day he became extremely sad and things just got worse afterward."

"He says that he used to be much happier. When was that?" I asked.

"He is talking about the time he spent in the hospital. That, of course, was when he was most mad. When, I guess, he had no sense of reality."

I then walked back to town very excited by what I had just heard. Are crazy people the only truly happy people in this world? That man believes that he has a wealthy, princess lover. He even goes gladly to pick flowers for her in winter. I, meanwhile, feel no happiness. I see only reality. I see only what I cannot have.

And yet this man is no longer happy. People will not leave him to his madness. They want him to see reality too. They do not realize that they only hurt him more. Why must people be so cruel to each other? The world is already a difficult place to live in, why make it even worse by having so many cold people in it?

God, you are everywhere, I know. But I still feel that I cannot find you. Please, I only want to come back to you like a son that returns to his father after a long journey. I have looked for happiness in other things, but have found none. Only you can provide this for me. I ask you, would a loving father ever turn away from his son?

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